


Rage Against The Dying Of The Light

by TrishaCollins



Category: DCU, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Steve Rogers (mentioned) Steve Trevor (mentioned)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-15 00:30:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11219454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrishaCollins/pseuds/TrishaCollins
Summary: Right after Steve's death, Peggy gets a little bit of company who intimately understands what she is going through.





	Rage Against The Dying Of The Light

"Agent Carter?" A warm, female voice said behind her.

She started, hand half dropping to her service pistol before remembering she had left it behind. The whiskey no longer tasted like anything in her mouth, the others had left her. She had driven them away.

The seat next to her pulled out very slowly, and an elegant brunette sat down next to her. "It is hard to grieve when the rest of the world is celebrating."

She laughed, it was a harsh painful sound that made her eyes burn, though she had cried too much already. "He is such...." She shook her head, dashing away tears with her hand.

Stark had warned her not to drink too much, but even if it didn't help. She didn't care anymore. What did it matter anymore? The war was over, and everything she had fought for was done.

And Steve was gone. Gone like too many other good men.

"It was very brave, what you Captain did." The woman told her gently, voice warm and soothing. "There is no shame in mourning him."

"Everyone wants to remember him as this larger than life, this...god." She brought a hand briefly to her face, chest shuddering in another - laugh? Sob? Did it even matter anymore. "He just wanted to do something."

"Agent Carter, there are many who want to do something. Only a few are able to do so." The woman told her, smile sad and elusive on her lips. "Sadly, most become tales of heroics, and what they stood for is largely forgotten."

She sniffled, leaning her head back and staring at the roof of the tent. "Steve won't be forgotten. Not if I have say in it. Not if those who fought with him have say in it."

The woman touched her arm, hand gentle against her arm. "Then he shall never truly die. For a hero to be remembered is the best sort of immortality."

Her shoulders shook with emotion. "What do you know about that?"

"I too lost a Captain, to a brave charge that saved so many lives." She told her gently. "He was extraordinary, like your Captain, not in the way of bullets and bombs, but in his goodness. He told me once that we can all either do nothing or do something." She gave her arm a gentle squeeze. "We and our Steves both chose the latter."

"He had so much more to give." She whispered.

"There is never a good day to die." The woman told her gently. "A good man has more work than they could ever accomplish in a mortal lifetime. So they do what they can, for those they can, while they have life left to them and that makes all of the difference."

She shook her head, swallowing back the sob that wanted to escape. "Blast this war."

The woman gave her arm a gentle squeeze. "Shall we drink together, Peggy?"

She knew the woman, vaguely, in some corner. French resistance, she thought. She had drifted in and out of the camp, larger than life. She had wanted Steve to meet her, reminded of the occasional drawing she had caught.

Somehow, she had never managed to work up the nerve. Diana was intimating like that, easy in her skin, wise in her manner, impossibly and exotically beautiful.

"Yes. Please." She whispered, watching her pour for them both. "Thank you."

Diana raised her glass, clinking them together with a gentle smile. "I could not leave you to mourn alone."


End file.
